


Somewhere Along in the Bitterness

by mr_bonez



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, Crying, Gen, Guilt, Hallucinations, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mentioned Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Sad GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Self Blaming Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sequel, Song: How to Save a Life (The Fray), Songfic, Temporary Character Death, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27603682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mr_bonez/pseuds/mr_bonez
Summary: Tommy thinks it's his fault Dream died.Drista wonders what she could've done to help.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Drista & Clay | Dream, Drista & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 8
Kudos: 130





	Somewhere Along in the Bitterness

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [My Exhaustion Will Consume Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27598501) by [mr_bonez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mr_bonez/pseuds/mr_bonez). 



> there's no way to specify that this is a sequel and not inspired, b u t check out the fic above to understand what exactly this is the aftermath of.

_Step one, you say we need to talk._

Tommy thought that maybe he was to blame.

_He walks. You say sit down, it's just a talk._

He didn't understand why he felt so relieved, why when he thought of Dream being gone he was _thankful_. Without Dream there, not even the lingering presence of knowing he was watching from a distance, things felt strange, but not in a bad way. He felt—It felt like something was missing, something more than just the body in the ground below his feet. 

And he felt better without it. 

The smile came involuntarily, and, standing at the grave of Dreamwastaken, surrounded by friends grieving his loss, Tommy was glad to be able to bow his head without shame. He didn't want anyone to see his face. Dream was his friend. A friend that he was scared of, a friend that had betrayed them and sent his home to kingdom come time and time again, but a friend. He should feel bad. So, why didn't he?

_He smiles politely back at you._

The tears bubble up, but not because of sadness. Because of guilt. The feeling was akin to being told off for stealing food from the kitchen—you didn't feel bad because you stole, you felt bad because you got caught. 

_You stare politely, right on through._

He hiccups and crumples onto the ground, and the instant he does someone else drops to their knees and wraps their arms around him, pulling him close. They're warm and from the sound of their muffled tears he figures that she must be Niki. Niki mumbles something, but he can't hear it. His arms tangle around her and he sobs. Tubbo wails nearby and he can hear him. Their cries are just slightly stifled, and he guesses that Wilbur or someone else must be holding him.

George is screaming from his place on the ground. Bad and Sapnap had pinned him to the grass when he first started hollering, which was the beginning of the funeral. It had scared him—his yelling. ”I want him back! You can't take him from me! It's not fair! It's not fair! It's not fair!“ He just barely remembered that being some of what he'd shouted, broken up with tears. Bad was begging him to stop so they could grieve and Sapnap was screaming at him back. “You can't have him back! I want him too, but we can't have him back! We can't have him _ever_!”

_Some sort of window to your right._

Drista hadn't come.

_As he goes left and you stay right._

Seeing them suffering makes him feel worse and he feels like a puppet putting on a play as his crying increases. Are any of his tears real, he wonders? He feels like a liar, and even though when he tries to stop his sobs they keep going, it still feels wrong.

_Between the lines of fear and blame,_  
_You begin to wonder why you came._

He thinks that maybe this is what Dream had felt like. With everyone, but still isolated. Guilty, always. He thinks that maybe he should've seen the signs.

He thinks that maybe he deserves what Dream got.

_"Where did I go wrong?”_

His head is buried in Niki's arms and their crying mixed together is loud in his ears, but he hears George's screams die down as he loses his voice, and the little whimper that comes from his throat, repeating until he can't talk anymore. “Where did I go wrong? Where did I go wrong? Where did I go wrong?” He feels terrible. 

He wonders if George won't come back when he leaves the funeral.

He wonders if there's a reason Drista didn't come.

_I lost a friend._

_Somewhere along in the bitterness._

The time was blurred and he wasn't quite sure when the proceedings ended, nor when he ended up cradling Tubbo in his arms midway home, but he hugs him either way. He doesn't know what to say, so he's silent. Tubbo. Tubbo went through exactly what he did, and he knew that he was so awfully devastated that Dream was gone. His breath hitches in his throat. Tommy knows that he shouldn't feel as empty, as relieved as he does. He knows he should cry, should sob into Tubbo's arms just like they have to him. The knowledge changes nothing.

If George could know his innermost thoughts, would he yell? If Sapnap and Bad knew, would they hold him back? If Niki knew, would she still have held him so tightly? If Tubbo knew, would he still be here in his arms? He could practically see it. Tubbo would shove him away and cry on his own, and Niki would be disgusted with him. She'd hate how she held him and comforted him at the funeral. George would be screaming and Sapnap might've joined in. Bad wouldn't speak, but his face would say a thousand words. He thought that maybe that's how it should've been.

_And I would have stayed up with you all night._

He doesn't realize that Tubbo is looking at him until the sound of crickets fills his ears. He looks down. Eyes puffy and red, face stained and sticky with tears, the shorter man stares at him, concerned. He can tell he wants to speak, but he says nothing. So Tommy guesses. ”I'm okay, Big T,“ he smiles and Tubbo smiles back. Tubbo was never one to doubt, so he turns away. They leave. 

Silence.

_Had I known how to save a life._

When they get back home, Tubbo breaks to his room and Tommy wanders to his. He slumps onto his bed and curls up. Pogtopia is cold, and being on Manberg land for the funeral reminded him of his old home. It was warm, and the thought of being without food was far from his mind. He didn't worry of being followed, nor of defending his land. He didn't sleep with one eye open or with an empty stomach. He was happy.

The same could not be said about Pogtopia. His allies weren't allies and he rarely had anything to occupy his mind. He worried, speaking to friends, thinking that he might be labeled a traitor, and he feared showing emotions to anyone beyond their walls. He didn't build, he didn't pull schemes. He tortured and he maimed and he worried that he would go too far, only to be pushed past the line by the others. He hunted for himself and maybe for Tubbo and stashed food in his room because if he couldn't find something to eat, he wouldn't. He was territorial and he was frightened. 

A wild animal.

That was Tommy.

_Let him know that you know best._  
_'Cause after all, you do know best._

He used to think he deserved none of it.

Now that he knew what he was actually like—being happy that a foe was dead—he thought he was very deserving.

_Try to slip past his defense._

He rolled onto his back.

Was he ever really friends with Dream? Always on opposing sides, but close nonetheless. But if him being gone made him so happy—so relieved—so *guilty*, they must've not been. Why did he think they were friends? Did everyone think they were friends? Did _Dream_ think they were friends? 

Is that why... Is that why the note said his name?

_Without granting innocence._

He remembered the note to a T.

”Everyone,“

_Lay down a list of what is wrong._

“This server was great. You all were great. I had so much fun here and I love all of you so, so much. But... I can't do this anymore. I don't want you guys to have to deal with me. Tommy, Drista, Wilbur, George, Sapnap... All of you, even the ones I haven't named, I don't want to burden.”

_The things you've told him all along._

“So you were great, but I have to go now.”

_And pray to God he hears you._

“The server is entrusted to George and Sapnap. You guys can share it or choose someone, I don't care. And if guys don't want it you can pass it on to whoever you want. All my things go to Drista. I'm sorry I wasn't a better big brother.”

_And I pray to God he hears you._

“I'm sorry I wasn't a better person.”

_And where did I go wrong?_

“I'm sorry and I love you,  
Dream.”

_I lost a friend._

The note brings him to tears and he bites his hand to keep the sobs down. He doesn't want to be heard mourning the enemy, though he might be a dead man. The cave is silent, all he can hear is his own sniffles and whimpers. Dream... Big D. He didn't want to be relieved. He didn't want to be happy. He didn't want to feel anything he felt like. He wanted that feeling of safety to go away and never to come back. He wanted... He wanted Dream back.

_Somewhere along in the bitterness._  
_And I would have stayed up with you all night,_  
_Had I known how to save a life._

* * *

_As he begins to raise his voice,_

She could hear her heartbeat outside of her body, thumping, painlessly, behind her ears and against her ribs. It felt like she could _feel_ her veins—the blood pumping through them. Rhythmic. Like footsteps. 

With the sound in her ears, maybe she didn't hear the communicator ringing. Maybe she just chose to ignore it. Thinking back, she wondered if she could've talked him out of it, if she had answered. She wondered if he was calling to say goodbye, to apologize. She wondered if he was calling to beg her to help him. She wondered why he had called her, when she'd been ignoring him, and not someone with a chance of answering. She wondered if, if she knew his intentions, she would've picked up the communicator. 

She wondered if she could've saved his life.

_You lower yours and grant him one last choice._

She remembered the night of the funeral, when an unknown number—who she later figured out was Sapnap—messaged her, explaining in the deepest sadness what had happened to Dream. She'd sat alone in her room, hours upon hours of mellowing. Thinking. Only one moment in particular stood out to her.

She knew the door was behind her back, hard dark oak, grooves thin and primarily decorative, but she didn't feel wood behind her. She knew the wind blowing in from the crack in the window was chilled and icy, but it felt warm as a summer's day. She knew her brother was gone, long gone, but she saw him in front of her face.

The whisps of his ethereal body curled and swirled around in open space, mask peeled to the side in favor of a pleasant little smile on his face. Tears were brought to her eyes, dripping down her cheeks as her face contorted into one of sadness. He reached forwards, holding out a ghostly hand to caress the air beside her cheek, because he could not touch her on her own. She felt the warmth of his palm all the same. She thought she heard him speak, but perhaps it had been her mind projecting out into the world. “Sis,“ his whisper drawled. Long, soft. ”I'm sorry.“

He might've spoken, he might've not. Either way Drista responded. 

_Drive until you lose the road._

”It's— It's okay.”

_Or break with the ones you've followed._

His body then dissipated. Slowly, stretching out long enough to hurt. Flecks of spiritual vapor lash out and then evaporate. She wants to reach out and touch him, to beg him to stay, but she can only watch, body a statue. Soon, all that's left is his mask, and then, nothing. 

Her breath is caught in her throat as the warmth snaps away, her door presses into existence once more, and her eyes open. Days later, she still doesn't know if what happened was real, and, quite frankly, she doesn't wish too. It was... closure. Not much, but closure enough. And with all that had happened, all she hadn't seen, all she wished she'd known, it was better than nothing. Better than what George got, at the very least.

He'd gotten nothing. Nothing, but a task which he accepted days after its designation. George had stepped up to the plate, taking the managing of the DreamSMP into his hands, as she'd heard the ownership had gone to him and Sapnap. Good. She didn't know if he had written it down, if he'd asked for them to take his place, if the SMP had fought to choose a replacement, if it was truly something her brother had wanted, but Dream had always adored the pair. She figured that it was good enough.

She'd settled for “good enough” quite frequently since he'd gone.

She wanted to go back to her old self, but...

_He will do one of two things._  
_He will admit to everything._

And she hated making excuses for herself, but...

_Or he'll say he's just not the same._

She didn't know if there was any old self left to go back to.

Dream's death.. his... his _suicide_ (oh how she hated saying that word) had broken her to bits, chased her heart down and beat it until it was little more than fragments. She remembered how she'd broken down on call with Sapnap, sobbing until she couldn't breathe. He'd comforted her with whispers, words she couldn't quite place, but they reminded her of when they were children and Dream would hug her tight and murmur sweet nothings to her when she got injured. It helped. More than she could find the words to say.

_And you'll begin to wonder why you came._

When her wails dissolved into hiccups, she shakily told him that she was sorry and he could carry on. He'd hesitated, but he kept speaking. His voice cracked as he explained the funeral processions, how everything was going to play out for the next week or so. He'd asked if she was going to come. She'd fumbled with the communicator and ended the call. She wasn't ready, she knew she wasn't, she just...

Didn't know how to say that.

_Where did I go wrong?_  
_I lost a friend._

Exactly nine days later—she was counting—, she stood in her kitchen, mind blank as she chopped carrots. Sapnap was in the main room, along with George. Silent. She felt like their silence was wrong, that they should be loud and proud, not staring at their palms and finding interest with the crevices of the floorboards. What did she know, though? They're—They _were_ Dream's friends, not hers.

But it helped to have them around. She... _dealt_ with grief by surrounding herself with others. When she was alone, her thoughts consumed her. She thought about what she could've done, what she should've done, and everything she regretted. When there were others around, she could let herself get swept up in the high of everything, and for as long as it lasted she felt everything would be alright.

Maybe that's why it hurt so much when Dream pushed her away.

_Somewhere along in the bitterness._

She shook her head, dropping the carrots into the bubbling stew. Checking the heat and stirring it once, she left it to cook, leaving for the main room where George and Sapnap sat. When she stepped into the archway entrance, she realized they had been talking the entire time, just in little whispers, because it sounded far more empty when they closed their mouths and turned their heads to her than it had before. She sat and bowed her head. Funny. She'd found it odd how they stared at their hands and spoke little more than a few words, and here she was doing it herself.

_And I would have stayed up with you all night._

Drista didn't see George very often. He kept to himself, boarding up his home and only coming out when Sapnap pleaded for him to take a breather or when someone called on him for admin things. Red rings circled his eyes and bags dropped below them. The skin of his lips and around his nails were bitten raw. He looked... Suffice to say, he looked like a mess. Dream would've laughed to hide his concern. For a second, a second only, she considered mimicking him.

Sapnap looked... He looked perfectly okay. He looked like his best friend hadn't killed himself eight days earlier, he looked like he wasn't caring for the broken shell of the remaining trio, he looked like he didn't have the world pressing down on his shoulders. She knew he wasn't okay. A small part of her told her to ignore it. She wanted to pretend he was okay, so she could pretend she was okay too. His eyes drifted upwards and he caught her gaze, offering a little smile.

_Had I known how to save a life._

She smiled back and then looked away. She appreciated Sapnap more than she thought he knew. In some ways, he felt like another brother. On one occasion, she'd been about to call him “big bro” when she caught herself and switched it to “bud”. 

He was a good man. 

She understood why Dream was friends with him.

_Where did I go wrong?_

They engaged in small talk and she gifted them their food, then a few hours later they left her. Alone. Again. 

_I lost a friend._  
_Somewhere along in the bitterness._

She slumped against the door as soon as she shut it, dropping the smile on her face. She had half a mind to slam the door open, run out there, and beg them to stay, just for the night. She didn't want to be alone—she _really_ didn't want to be alone. She didn't know why, but she just... couldn't. Not tonight.

_And I would have stayed up with you all night,_  
_Had I known how to save a life._

She curled into herself, mind racing almost instantly.

_How to save a life._

Why did Dream do it?

_How to save a life._

Why could no one stop him?

_Where did I go wrong?_  
_I lost a friend._

Why didn't he come to her? To his friends?

_Somewhere along in the bitterness._

What could she have done to help him? _Could_ she have helped him? Could anyone have?

_And I would have stayed up with you all night._  
_Had I known how to save a life._

Dream was gone.

_Where did I go wrong?_

She had to accept that—she didn't want to accept that.

_I lost a friend._  
_Somewhere along in the bitterness._

She wanted him back, so so much.

_Had I known how to save a life._

She pretended to hate him, like all siblings did, and they fought, but...

_How to save a life._

He was her brother. She loved him so much. She wanted— She—

_How to save a life._

She just wanted her big brother back.


End file.
